


"It's the First Time..."

by Chocoholic777



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Breast Play, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Hair Pulling, Steamy Kissing, interracial, substance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocoholic777/pseuds/Chocoholic777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not the first time Athis had caught the new whelp stealing glances at him, more than what is considered necessary; he has suspicions regarding her possible attraction to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"It's the First Time..."

**Author's Note:**

> I've written this for a Skyrim Kink Meme prompt asking for fills focused on Steamy Kissing.
> 
> Athis, The Companions, Morrowind, Skyrim © Bethesda Softworks/Bethesda Game Studios
> 
> DB character of Joselin and writing © Me

She is looking at him again. Blatantly staring at her Shield-Brother. He stares back, challenging her to look away. She does not. 

Probably the shots of strong mead she had been drinking, with the swaying Aela and the utterly wasted Torvar, had given her the unrestraint confidence drink never fails to provide. It is not the first time Athis had caught the new whelp stealing glances at him, more than what is considered necessary; he has suspicions regarding her possible attraction to him. 

It is a known fact that Joselin has a fancy for elves. It was no secret since she and the Bosmeri huntsman/meat merchant shamelessly flirt with one-and-other at his stall, adding fresh grains of gossip for the citizens of Whiterun to gobble and cluck about. It was no secret as she would occasionally hire a room at the Bannered Mare, (even though she had a perfectly good bed back in Jorrvaskr) with Anoriath racing up the steps after her less than a few minutes later. 

The lone Dunmeri Companion and others knew of the love play between his new Shield-Sister and the Huntsman. 

He was rather surprised when he first heard of this. 

Then again, it explained a lot when she turned down the honeyed words from the charming but honest Jon Battleborn. Even the poor but sweet (not his words but from Ria) attempts by Farkas to convey his interest of the voluptuous Breton. He gave her a sack of wild flowers and fungi for her alchemy hobby, a bowl of Honey Nut Treats and his attempt at sweet talking her - made up of blunt phrases such as "You've got a good back.", "You smell like Tundra Cotton and dirt - nice." and the favourite, "Those people who don't think I'm smart, they get my fist - but you, I like."

Farkas always had a thing for short women. Whiterun had a serious lacking of petite beauties until Joselin came along. Apparently Farkas had strongly advised her to join the guild of warriors when Aela, Ria and he had first meet the spell-swordswoman on Pelagia's farm, taking care of that terrorising giant. Okay, Athis can admit that Joselin is attractive... for a human. It does not mean he has a serious fancy to her as his ice-brained Shield-Brother. 

Once Farkas caught wind of the new whelp's preference for elves, it was a pretty hard blow for the stone-faced warrior. It was not to say he was bawling his eyes out and had been writing depressing poems as such (more what his twin brother would do), but it showed in his caved-in burly shoulders, the gloomy hanging of his great-but-empty head and his increased consumption of mead as of late.

Presently, the bear of a Nord is casting longing glances at the giggling minx across the hall. The Dunmer scoffs at the pitiful dog eyes the honourable Companion is making. For his ancestors' sake, show a bit of dignity. Fuck, HAVE dignity.

Athis chugs back his tankard of mead, a dusty pink tongue swipes across his thin lips to chase stray droplets of the burning nectar. His heavy lidded eyes glare at the visible iron bottom, frowning even more when there was no alcohol left on his secluded table. The elf steadies himself before he moves in the direction of the chambers beneath the great Mead Hall; priding himself on not tripping over like a clumsy ass. 

He descended down the stairs, enters the massive hallway then takes a detour to the pantry, avoiding the confrontation of the aggressive drunkard being Njada. That trouble-seeking troll was thankfully occupied with her attempts at aggravating an unfazed Vilkas. 

Athis closes the slab of heavy oak behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. 

The honeyed poison was getting to him now. His cheeks and ears felt hot, light beads of sweat gathered on his forehead that threatened to trickle down his brow. 

His hand grips a shelf for balance, passing the stocked shelves of various food, searching for more mead. He clocks two barrels, sluggishly approaches then rummages through the first one finding only carrots and sweet rolls. Weird. The second was the treasure. The elf took a bottle of Honningbrew mead (not as great as Black-Briar's but adequate), struggling to uncork the bastard bottle.

He curses as his uncooperative fingers weakly tug at the slippery stopper. C'mon you stupid fetc-  
He jumps; startled by the sudden warmth gripping his shoulder.

The Dunmer's head snaps round to identify the source, which turned out to be a hand; a dainty, pale hand. The glitter that dotted the skin was residue from the use of magicka. Only one person, in the entire ancient building, would use and practice the arcane arts. 

Athis turns fully around to face the short brunette, her stance swaying lightly with a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve clutched in her other hand, peering at the man through hazy grey-green eyes. A daft grin plasters her pink smudged face. The elf sighs as he plucks her hand away from his forearm, looks over her questioningly. 

The young woman huffs at his accusing stare. She takes a swig from her blue bottle of fine mead, snagging his own then crassly removing the cork with her teeth. She spits it out to the side, returning the opened beverage to her Shield-Brother. He raises a skeptical eyebrow at her but stiffly nods his gratitude to the Breton. 

Their fingers brush on the bottle's neck. Grey and white digits crossing each other on brown glass, caused a spark to race up the elf's arm; igniting a type of warmth he prefers not to name but has not expressed since his last night in Morrowind.

Silence hangs between the Companions. Athis rubs at the back of his neck. He acknowledges her reason to still be in the small pantry with him. 

Joselin's hand reaches up to cup his jaw. Her thumb tentatively stroking the purple-flushed flesh rising in temperature. He sighs softly, comforted by the light caressing. Athis places his mead on the shelf, taking his Shield-Sister's bottle to stand beside his own. He reaches out for her unoccupied hand, resting the small palm on the right-side of his long and narrow jaw. 

Joselin hums happily as her delicate, calloused fingers feel the shape of the Elven jawline. They halted at his chin to stroke the trimmed beard there, before resuming their exploration of the Dunmer's visage. His eyes flutter closed in pleasure, gruffly sighing as the curious digits trace the prominent brow that makes his face appear to be in a permanent scowl. They trail along his crooked, broken nose and high cheekbones, feeling the jutted curved bone beneath the hot skin. The cool hands hold his cheeks, his ruby eyes peering intently at the nearing Breton. 

He gave her that same challenging stare as before. As Athis expected with tempered glee, Joselin did not shy away. 

The feather-light brush of her warm lips sent more sparks to the building pressure in his chest. He growled, grasping her upper-arms before claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss.

His lips shifted, melding into her bow-shaped orifice. She got over her initial shock, responding in kind revealing her desire of kissing him. They continued relishing the acquaintance of their lips, both sighing through their noses in bliss. 

It was Joselin who beat Athis at slipping her tongue into his unguarded mouth. The slick muscle explores in tasting the warm and wet cave, rich in flavour of sweet honey and the sinful burning of alcohol. Her tongue outlined the shape of his teeth, coaxing his inactive tongue to dance with hers. They sensually moved against one-and-other, exchanging tastes of different brands of mead and savoury meats they ate at dinner. The elf could detect the spiced infused mead and the sweet gamey taste of venison. He wanted more. 

His large hands strolled up and down her arms, adding more sensuality to the experience of their first joining of lips. Her small palms rest on his shoulders, running them over the nude, lean flesh. The Breton shamelessly gropes at his strong biceps, snaking her hands under the hide chest piece to caress his chest. The cheeky wench teases a nipple into full erection, pinching then twisting the playful bud. He groans into their kiss, tongues now ferociously coiling around the other. Athis wraps his arms around Joselin, pulling her short frame closer to feel her lithe and curved form. His hands grasp her modest hips, squeezing then kneading the clothed flesh, delighted at her moaning and the squirming of her shapely body against him. The Dunmer's throaty groan of approval encourages her grinding. 

The passion shared between Breton and Dunmer increased tenfold. 

Both of their hands ran over each other's bodies. Panting from the intimate touches and the passionate kissing. The delicious heat builds up within their sanctuary of the storage room. 

Athis gasps back in surprise at her grabbing his firm buttocks. A silver string of their shared saliva trailed from her erotic red lips to his bruised purple ones. Her dilated and glazed eyes twinkle in impish mischief, making rotating movements on his rump through his kilt. Her mouth attacks his collarbone, nipping and suckling at the sweat-glistening skin. Delicious steel-on-silk sounds tumble from the elf's gaping mouth. His long fingers slip into her luscious locks, grooming her thick hair to encourage her lecherous treatment. Her tongue slithers a slick trail along his neck, closing her mouth around his Adam's apple. The rippling of his moaning trembles against her mouth while her devious tongue encircles the prized, ash-coloured bump. 

Athis' knees shook with the strain of standing, tumbling backwards until his thighs met the mead barrel. The proud Dunmer purrs under the attention his new lover lavishes on him. 

By Azura, no wonder that Bosmer kept returning back for more. He never would have thought he enjoyed being dominated by a woman. 

A short, human woman at that.

The elf tugs at her earth-brown mane, pulling her away from his soaked neck. Navy-blue love bites were blossoming across his throat and collarbone, the Breton awed by her proud work. The Dunmer, however, was clearly not thrilled about the bare evidence of love play. 

Oh to Oblivion with the predictable teasing and prying. He has a beautiful woman who is interested in him. By the Three, she is the FIRST woman to show interest in the lonely Dunmer since his temporary stay in that bitter, prejudiced, frozen hell of Windhelm. There are two other nearby Dunmers who happen to be both female. Alas one was obsessed with shielding the city's Jarl, whilst the other was a morbid mercenary lurking in the Drunken Huntsman owned by the Bosmer brothers (one who is regularly bedded by the very woman rutting against his leg). 

Athis slid down to the stone floor with Joselin following after, who brazenly straddles his pelvis. The seductive minx rolled her hips into him, stroking the growing bulge beneath his hide armour. He moans into the junction of neck and shoulder, causing her to shiver and press her bountiful chest into his. The elf grabs her two glorious mounds, testing the weight and form by kneading and squeezing her sweet-cakes. Oh they're so spongy and so soft, he licked his lips in anticipation of icing them with his eager tongue. She mewls in delight, clutching and pulling at his ponytail with vigour. He hissed at the combination of the itching pain of his pulled-taut scalp and the sensual pleasure of the Breton grinding down on his erection.

At last she decides to rid the leather thong, releasing the carnelian streams of hair. She buries her nose and entangles her fist in the velvety strands, thus causing the man to be smothered by her lovely tits. He groans into the bountiful flesh, taking matters into his hands (quite literally) by removing the blasted barrier of the cotton tunic. A breast manages to pop out the sloped neck-line to greet the Dunmer, admiring the pale globe and the rosy bud tempting him to taste it. The fearless Companion does not disappoint.

His mouth takes in as much of the spongy flesh as possible, his member throbbing against its hide prison. The serpent-like muscle strikes at the tasty nibble, flickering the hardening nub until it moves on to sampling the rest of the divine treat. 

Joselin croons at the elf's clever mouth, that heavenly wet and tight mouth suckling at her exposed breast. Her watering mouth latches onto the sharp tip of the elf's pointed ear, bitten between lustful teeth then soothed by her tongue. A muffled cry boomed into her pampered tit, she murmured something lewd to her Dunmeri lover but he cannot hear it by the blood pounding in his ears and the beating of her heart. 

Athis thrusts his slim hips upwards, colliding into the cloth clinging to her wet sex. The Breton shrieks in delight, working with him to find a tantalising rhythm of dry humping each other. 

He continues to suckle her heaving breast. She continues her licks and rough petting to stimulate his ears. 

They work together in a frenzy. Athis directs the rutting of her hips. Joselin plants shearing hot kisses to his prominent brow, forehead, ears and anywhere else she could reach.

"ARGH, YOU FUCKIN' BAS'ERD! C'MON AN' FIGH' LIKE A FUCKIN' REAL NORD!" 

The engrossed lovers were interrupted by the furious shouting. They abruptly paused in their activity, listening to the shrill insults and the crunch of knuckles smashing bone and flesh. It is nearing the closed door of the pantry, occupied with two hot and bothered warriors in an indecent position. 

Athis' heart stops.

Their breathing held in suspense. 

The fear of discovery is pungent in the room.

The violent commotion, just outside that oak door, began to faint away. The ensuring fight moves on towards the left of the chambers then silence closes in, smothering the rest of the bloody fist match. 

Ah, the bawling between Njada and Vilkas has moved on upstairs. 

Good.

The two whelps exhale their held breaths. Relief flooding through their system, clearing some of the hazy fog of arousal from their muddled minds. 

Athis began to sober up from the influential alcohol and buzzing hormones in his bloodstream. 

He analysed the situation of where he is, who he is with and, more importantly, what in Oblivion were they doing in a pantry of all places. The Dunmer wanted to be lying in a warm, comfortable bed instead of sitting on the hard, unforgiving cold floor to have sex for the first time since he first arrived in Skyrim - which was, what, over two years ago?

He rubs at his temple and sighs in exasperation. He opens his eyes to stare at his Shield-Sister, who is still sitting in his lap, looking at him with inquiring eyes and the curious cocking of her head. 

He understands that it is none of his business but he cannot help but attempt to clear the air of what transpired.

"I... I know it isn't my place but I must ask. I haven't jeopardised anything to your, well, relationship with the Bosmeri Huntsman?" He inquired the fellow Companion with hesitance but with directness. He cannot help but feel guilt and a tad possessive over his short-lived lover; he could not stop the self-loathing at his decision to not continue from where they left off.

"No." She stated plainly to the worrying elf. "On the contrary, the only sort of relationship he and I are engaged in is a "friends with benefits" sort of thing. We both still get to bed other lovers whenever the opportunity rises, which is rare with everyone knowing each others' business in this city." 

Athis is satisfied with the explanation. He is on friendly terms with Anoriath and his brother after all; being that they are the only other male elves he can relate to and occasionally chat with. He would hate himself if he upset his brother elf by sleeping with his love interest, which is agreeably poor and distasteful. 

Despite her reassuring answer, he still needs to sort things out between them and not be left to spring up into a barrier of awkwardness.

"So, what about this then? Shall we not speak of it again?" 

"Only if you prefer to do so. If you do, I can't help but feel disappointed." Joselin confesses, causing the elf to raise his slim eyebrows in reply. 

"Why?"

"Oh it's just... because... well..." Now it was her turn to fluster with her answer. Besides her sex appeal, she has a quality of being adorable. "It's because I've had this crush on you from the beginning. Not so much for your grumpy and highly arrogant mannerism but mainly because you are a Dark Elf... I've always had an undeniable attraction to your kind..." The human finishes, blushing sweetly in embarrassment from her wonderful confession. 

Although it is not obvious, the Dunmer was surprised and elated; with pride wedging it's way in for being chosen over that Bosmer. He could not help but wrap his toned arms around her, embracing the lovely woman. Athis kisses her bashful cheek with a tenderness he did not know he still processed. He hums in content, petting the tousled waves of sweet floral and earth scented hair. 

"Is it just my good looks that you've fallen for or is there possibly more?" He purred seductively to her, amused at how easily flustered she becomes when she is the one being flirted at. The elf is starting to admire the pink blush staining her cheeks, making the silver and green more vivid within her almond-sculptured eyes. 

"W-well, I admire your swordsmanship. I like your teaching method as you are more patient and firm when we train together. I like your arguments on swords and especially on short-swords on how they are adept at speed and precision. I like..." The elf leans back to absorb the praises. 

It is not to say he constantly needs to feed on praises from other people to know he is a great warrior, but it's nice to hear it now and again from someone else. Despite using magicka and not having a body fit for a true warrior, Joselin is impressive (to him at least) with her ability to multitask at casting spells and defending with her steel sword. 

The elf has never been good at using magicka; even the most simple spells of Flames and Sparks he always manages to fry himself instead of his opponents.

His thoughts were interrupted by Joselin's soothing hands touching his face. They stroked the sharp cheekbones forcing his eyes to flutter closed for a few moments. 

"My favourite feature about you and your kind are your eyes. I love the vibrant redness of them. Yours remind me of rubies rather than garnets. I particularly adore how your eyes and your grey-blue skin complement each other; your hair serves justice in amplifying the contrast. You truly are a fine and beautiful specimen, Athis." The elf raises an annoyed eyebrow to her choice of word. 

"...I know it isn't considered masculine to be called "beautiful" but that's just how I honestly see you." She replied. The proud elf scoffs, however he is touched by her words.

"You know, it's the first time I've kissed a woman since my last night in Morrowind..." He reveals to Joselin, feeling comfortable in telling his fellow Companion about himself.

"I've been residing in Jorrvaskr since the third day of being acquainted with this cold land. I took a chance at living and working as a mercenary in Whiterun, especially when I took a shot at applying for the Companions; best decision I've made for a living. 

The only downside to it was that no woman here was interested in me. I have been lonely.

If it weren't for Elrindir and Anoriath setting up their business here, I would've left because it was the first time I've traveled and lived anywhere without brothers of my own kind. I was tempted to stay in Windhelm, but the Dunmer there were more miserable than those back home. No wonder due to the prejudice festering in that bitter city - I only stayed there for a single, lousy night then took off early the next day. The segregation there of my kind wallowing in a slum and the Argonians living out on the docks was more than enough to convince me to try somewhere else.

I had enough gold on me to get to Whiterun. To be honest, I took a gamble with what little knowledge I gathered from the driver and the club owner in the "Grey Quarter" - those insensitive n'wahs of Nords renamed it after my people, can you believe the nerve?!

When Ria came along a few months before you applied, I was happy of not being the only non-Nordic Companion. I was even more thrilled when you arrived and got accepted by Kodlak. Not to say I thought you were a shot at bedding a woman, but because there was another person Ria and I could relate to; especially with Njada who, as you well know, constantly reminds us of not being Nords as if we don't belong here.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that you really made me feel appreciated and wanted... You know, more than just a Shield-Brother." He hastily adds, shying away from her surprised stare. She twirls a strand of his copper hair, the Breton pondering over what she would say to him.

"You know what, you've made me more determined to buy Breezehome." 

The elf turns around to show his bemusement at her statement. She sits up a bit to look at her Companion in the eye. 

"What I meant by buying that house is, with us, we need more privacy and I know you aren't keen on others knowing about our business. Anoriath and I rarely have a problem to spend the night at his place or in the Bannered Mare." Athis nods in agreement to her reasonable explanation (despite feeling a twinge of jealousy at the mentioning of Anoriath).

With reluctance, the two whelps separate from each other. Joselin tucking her breast away then fixing up her crinkled casual clothes, whilst Athis carded back his hair re-tying the hide strip to hold his hair in place. 

Before she left the pantry to retire, the Breton turned to give the elf a languid kiss. Sealing their lips in a promise for affections and desires to sate in the future. After she shut the heavy oak door behind her, Athis swoons over the night's turn of events. 

The once lonely Dunmer's mouth breaks into a genuine smile. Another first he has not done in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry for the rubbish, cheesy ending. 
> 
> I also apologise for any grammar and word choice mistakes - wrote most of this on my iPhone (crazy, I know) without it being Beta-read. This was my first Skyrim fanfic and is a prequel to my other writing piece of "A Surprise Visit" - http://archiveofourown.org/works/3774055
> 
> Thanks for reading and hoped you have enjoyed it! ^^


End file.
